


naturals

by drashian



Series: remember what your heart is for [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Oral Sex, Trans Character, Transgender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-23
Updated: 2015-01-23
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:38:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3216113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drashian/pseuds/drashian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A study in what happens when your Tevinter lover looks too good with the sun behind him and bears conveniently destroy half of your belongings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	naturals

**Author's Note:**

> TWO FICS IN ONE DAY!
> 
> Again, super super self indulgent. Alador looks like [this](http://princezuko.co.vu/tagged/alador-lavellan).

The first time Dorian had come to Alador’s quarters, he panicked.

“It… seems a little sudden.”

And even if he played at complaining, Alador could tell that Dorian didn’t mind. Instead, he started to spend casual time there, bringing a particularly hilarious passage with him, or a bottle of wine, or a basket from the kitchens. Then he would stay, lounging in a chair, making the space his own.

Not like Alador didn’t want to knock his book aside and ravage Dorian right in his chair, and he was sure Dorian would be ecstatic, but…

It would be so easy to tell him, just look over at the impossibly beautiful mage with the sun at his back and say, “I think I’m falling in love with you and I have been keeping a stupid secret from you this whole time and I really want you to love me back and not to hate me for this.”

Stupid because of all the people in his inner circle, Dorian would be the least likely to care. Considering his own history.

Alador took the report he was currently reading through, a sloppy summary of the latest expedition of the Chargers, as a tentative step one.

“Bull invited me to drinks with the Chargers the other day, you know,” Alador said, his voice so casual and even compared to his heartbeat.

“Did he now?” Dorian didn’t sound uninterested, just like he wanted to know where this was going.

“It was fun. They’re a good bunch. Having names to faces helps reading these reports from Krem.”

“They seem lively. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting most of them.”

“Most?”

“Well, Bull took the first opportunity to introduce me to Krem, something about us ‘Vints having to stick together.”

This was good. This was more than good. “How do you like him?” Alador put down the report, leaning towards Dorian ever so casually.

Dorian chuckled. “After the first five minutes of him slinging insults at me in both Common and Tevene, he seems a good sort. I suppose from his perspective, I deserved it.”

“For what?”

“For my birthright.” Dorian shrugged. “But he also knows I don’t have that anymore, so it was in jest. He’s a good man, though, I think. Cares about his soldiers and Bull can’t speak highly enough of him.”

Alador nodded.

“I think so, too. He’s been a good friend, actually, though an unexpected one. They’re going to take away my vallaslin if I befriend any more Tevinters, say I’m not loyal to my clansmen anymore.”

“Plus the whole Herald of Andraste thing.”

“Now, I’ve never claimed to be the Herald—“

“Oh, I know. But if we were listing petty reasons you would get disowned by your clan…”

Alador rolled his eyes. “Ah, what do you know, shemlen’alas.”

Dorian chuckled. Alador suspected he had no idea what that meant, but knew it to be false anyway.

\- - -

Alador solemnly mourned the loss of his pack. It had been completely shredded in one of their (alarmingly frequent) run-ins with a bear, and now he sorted through what was still in one piece. Which, of course, did not include a tent.

“Ruined my spare clothes, completely shredded my tent, scattered all the herbs I was gathering…” he grumbled, shoving the rest of his supplies into his coat and leaving the ruined cloth behind on the ground. He didn’t mind sharing, of course, but Dorian was along for the trip this time and once she figured out what was going on, Sera wouldn’t stop winking at him.

“Maybe you should set up your tent a little further away,” she said, leaning on her bow like a cane. Honestly, she abused that thing so much Alador wasn’t sure why it hadn’t snapped in half yet.

“Maybe you should set up yours upwind,” he shot back, yanking the anchor rope a bit tighter than necessary. “Spare us the odor.”

She snorted and left him to it. Dorian grinned as she walked away. “She brings up an interesting point. Did you set this up just for a wilderness romp with me? You could have just asked.”

“Obviously. I paid that bear good coin to be sure to rip all my belongings clean in half.”

Dorian’s eyes danced with laughter. “Here, let me ready our things. You should make sure that—“ he nodded his head toward Sera and Cassandra arguing about how much salt to put into their stew “—doesn’t get too ugly.”

Alador rolled his eyes and went to the fire to break up the fight.

His stomach full of (properly seasoned) stew, Alador ladled out a bowl for Dorian, who still hadn’t shown his head outside of his—their—tent. What a thought _that_ was. He balanced the bowl as he held the flap aside, ducking in. Dorian seemed to have gotten suddenly trapped by whatever book he had dared to bring with him on the road, laying splayed on his stomach on top of a half-made bedroll. Alador chuckled and Dorian looked up, smiling.

“I brought you dinner,” Alador said, lowering himself to sit cross-legged beside Dorian as he rolled over to sit up properly. He took the bowl gratefully from Alador.

“Thank you, dear,” he said, eating it ravenously despite his oft-voiced distaste for southerner’s food. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“Starve, I suppose, and have a tent all to yourself.” Alador leaned against him, looking at the title of the book. It was in Tevene, probably some dreadful volume of family histories.

“Now where would be the fun in that?” Dorian said. He eventually put aside the bowl, letting his head fall sideways to rest on top of Alador’s hair.

Alador hummed in assent, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth and smell of his… well, his Dorian. He didn’t know a word in Common or Elvish to describe who Dorian was to him, he just _was_. After a moment, Dorian angled his head down, ever so gently brushing his lips over Alador’s forehead, right in the middle of the curve of his vallaslin.

“Are Sera and Cassandra going to be alright?” he whispered, his voice barely containing a laugh. Alador listened. They were arguing in raised voices about something, hard to tell with Sera shrieking innuendos every few phrases.

“That’s pretty normal. They actually quite like each other.” Alador smiled sweetly and cupped Dorian’s cheek, kissing him lightly. “They’ll survive.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want demons to attack in the night and be down two warriors.” Dorian smiled at him with a reverence he saved only for him, a reverence that Alador would have hated had he not known it had nothing to do with him being the Herald.

They kissed again, languidly, Dorian’s fingers brushing through Alador’s long hair.

“We should make up the bedrolls,” Alador said, regretfully pulling away.

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “As you wish, Inquisitor.” He winked and Alador’s gut flooded with desire and panic.

Holding the fabric of his bed in his hands, Alador debated for the longest seconds of his life where to put it. Should they double up, sleep together? Or sleep separate? Next to each other? On opposite sides? His feet swayed in indecision he was sure Dorian noticed. It had been weeks since he said they were going too fast, and they had been going at a snail’s pace before that.

Dorian coughed and Alador’s head snapped up. The mage looked at him gently and laid out his bedroll next to where Alador stood. Close, closer than necessary perhaps, but not quite touching. Alador laid his bed (a collection of furs, really, some from before the Conclave, some newer) out and plopped cross-legged onto it. Dorian lit a few candles and sat beside him, their hands brushing.

“Is this a wolf fur?” His hands stroked the thick fur beneath him.

“Yes. It was one of those we took down… ah, a month ago, at least, by now. Thankfully survived the bear attack.”

“It’s very handsome.” Dorian’s hand found its way to Alador’s, fingers tangling as he leaned in to kiss him again and again. Alador’s tongue swiped across Dorian’s lips, exploring the inside of his mouth before he could stop himself. They embraced for a while, then his face warmed as Dorian broke the kiss.

“Armor,” Dorian said gently, pushing the coat off of Alador’s shoulders. The elf tensed and Dorian put a finger to his lips. “Now, now, I’m not trying to do anything you don’t want tonight. I’m simply saying it’s time to take off all this armor.”

Alador took off his coat and boots in slow motion, more interested in watching Dorian unbuckle his robes and fold them neatly than putting his own clothes away. Dorian obviously knew he had an audience; he made a show of taking off each piece one by one, bending slowly, arching his back and twisting to untie every knot. Alador had barely managed to get both boots off his feet before Dorian was topless, his eyes gleaming with delight.

“Dorian,” Alador said suddenly, his voice strained. The more he looked at the handsome man in front of him, the better he should feel. But it was just the opposite.

“Yes?” His eyes looked worried. Shit. Alador hadn’t meant to sound so upset.

“It’s… can I speak with you honestly for a moment?”

Well. Apparently he was doing this now, then. Right in the middle of the woods in the Hinterlands, of course, his tent shredded by bears, bandits probably bearing down on their camp at this very moment.

“What do you need?”

Alador snorted. “Put on some clothes first. It’s impossible to speak with you over there like a glistening statue.”

“A common complaint,” Dorian said and pulled on a deep green tunic with a sigh. It fit him loosely but still looked just as handsome as anything else Dorian ever put on his body. The man could wear orange plaideweave and make it look striking.

They sat again on Alador’s furs, the smell comforting. He stroked it a few times before starting.

“I have to tell you something important. And before you get mad at me for not telling you sooner, I hope you realize that it was only because I value your opinion so highly.”

Dorian leaned closer but remained silent. For as much as he loved talking about himself, he could be a good listener when given the task.

“It’s… not anything _bad_ , really. I mean, some people might consider it such, but I don’t and—“ Alador cut himself off, closing his eyes to regain his thoughts. “I suppose it will be easier if I use an example. You know Krem, right?”

“Of course. You’ve asked me my opinion of him at least a dozen times.”

Alador laughed. “Only because I was trying to build up to this conversation.”

“Yes, I do know him, as we have established.”

“You know his… his history, then? I mean, you know about him being…” Alador knew no word in Common to describe himself. “Aqun-Athlok, as Bull says.”

“Of course,” Dorian said, his voice careful but his face betraying his surprise.

“That’s. I mean, we are… I’m like him. Like that.” The spot on the tent slightly to the right of Dorian would catch on fire, soon, if Alador stared at it any harder.

The silence was heavy around them for a while. Dorian slowly put his hand over Alador’s, lacing their fingers together tightly.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning his shoulder against Alador. “For trusting me, I mean.”

Alador cleared his throat to stop his voice from catching. “You’re not… upset?”

Dorian shifted closer, one arm resting at the base of Alador’s back, the other reaching up to stroke his hair. “Do you truly think I would care about such a thing?”

Alador shrugged helplessly, willing tears not to form. “A lot of people do. Especially in Tevinter, I hear.”

“I’m not a lot of people,” Dorian said, pulling the elf closer to him, rubbing his hand up and down his back. “I’m not exactly popular there, either. You’re nowhere near the first nor will you be the last person to confide such a thing in me.”

Alador nodded, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes before Dorian noticed the wet spot forming on his shoulder. From the way he pulled Alador closer, he suspected he already had. After another minute or two, his breathing steadied, Alador pulled away, his fingertips tracing along Dorian’s jaw.

“This doesn’t change anything, right?” His biggest fear only managed out in a whisper.

Dorian, bless him, rolled his eyes at that. “You really do have a low opinion of me.”

Alador laughed, maybe a bit too loudly, but it felt good to let the tension leave his body. “I was just checking! I never know how you shem are going to react to anything.” He leaned in and kissed Dorian, at first intending for it to be just another affectionate embrace, but before he knew it, he was wiggling into Dorian’s lap, their breath heavy and Dorian’s hands roughly tangled in his hair.

Dorian unknotted the belt around Alador’s waist, unwinding and unwinding it. “This thing is too damn long,” he muttered and he finally tossed the long cloth to the side, kissing along Alador’s jawline and neck. The elf sighed, leaning into his touch, unbuttoning and unstrapping his own armor piece by piece until he was left in his undershirt and Dorian had definitely sucked more than a few bruises into his collarbone.

Dorian raised his head, kissing Alador once, tracing the scar above his lip with his thumb. “Is this what you want?”

“Creators, yes, I’ve been wanting to for so long now,” Alador said, still breathless. He pulled Dorian to his feet. “Can we put our bedrolls together?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Dorian set to it, combining their blankets into one large nest while Alador shed his belt and trousers, left only in undershirt and smalls. Dorian turned around and gave him an appreciative glance up and down, kissing him with his hands ghosting across Alador’s muscled thighs. They lowered down together, nestling in the soft furs and cloth. Alador pushed the hem of Dorian’s tunic upwards and they broke apart momentarily so he could toss it aside. Alador immediately set to kissing down Dorian’s neck, collarbone, sternum, leaving red marks in his wake. He rolled Dorian onto his back and straddled his waist. He bit determinedly at Dorian’s chest, wanting to leave his mark so badly his legs shook. Dorian’s hands braced against the back of his thighs, sliding upward.

“Tell me what’s okay,” Dorian said, his voice thick, hands squeezing Alador’s rear.

“Everything, ma vhenan,” Alador breathed and dipped his tongue into Dorian’s bellybutton. His stomach shook with laughter and Alador grinned.

“Everything, truly? We will have to explore that. Preferably in the warm embrace of Skyhold’s crumbling walls.”

Alador knelt upright, allowing himself to grind against Dorian as he unbuttoned his undershirt with trembling hands. Dorian watched with half-lidded, awestruck eyes, his thumbs rubbing against Alador’s narrow hipbones. He discarded the shirt behind him and Dorian bucked upward; they both moaned embarrassingly loudly. A moment of indecision, then he pulled the stiff leather binder over his head in one fluid motion, tossing it aside as well. Dorian gasped, fingers tracing down the middle of Alador’s chest.

“May I?” he asked, his hand pausing.

“Yes,” Alador said, and Dorian cupped his right breast, rubbing his thumb across the nipple. Alador leaned down, pressing their bare skin together, their hips glued together in a slow but desperate pace. Dorian rolled them over, laying the Inquisitor out before him, hair splayed against the pillow, almost entirely naked. He slid his hand over Alador’s hip, dragging his smalls down, just as Alador slipped his hand inside of his.

“Great minds think alike,” he laughed, and they tangled themselves trying to remove both of their smalls at the same time.

Alador squeezed his ass appreciatively and pulled their hips together again, rocking against Dorian, his breath hitching. “I need—“ he tried to say, but shuddered and lost his voice when Dorian lowered his head to suck on a nipple.

“You need what, amatus?” he said teasingly, his breath blowing cold where he had left his spit behind.

“I need you, please.” To illustrate his point, Alador raked his nails across Dorian’s back, causing an absolutely delicious moan.

“What do you want me to do?” Dorian asked.

“Stop talking and put your lips to better use.”

Dorian grinned and nodded, taking his sweet time to kiss and bite his way down Alador’s torso. His hands ran across the inside of Alador’s thighs, parting them, crawling down the bed to position his mouth at Alador’s sex. He took his time, nose parting the curly red hairs, taking time to taste the inside of his thighs and inward until his tongue finally found its mark. The moustache wasn’t so bad, Alador decided. Actually, it was strangely pleasant, bristling against him. Alador arched and locked his hands in Dorian’s hair. Dorian moaned, sending vibrations right into Alador, so he gripped tighter. He bit his other fist, trying to keep some courtesy for their companions, but he could only do so much in the face of Dorian’s obvious skill.

“Creators, please,” he choked out, every muscle in his body on fire. “Use your fingers.”

Dorian hummed and teased one, then two, fingers inside Alador, lips clamped around his clit. Alador arched, clenched, knowing he wouldn’t last long. A whine escaped his mouth before he choked it back. He swore, biting a knuckle hard as his hips ground fiercely into Dorian’s face. The tension in his belly built until he thought he couldn’t take it any longer until it finally released and Alador gasped loudly, bucking helplessly through waves of pleasure that Dorian rode out with him until the last. Finally, he slacked, every muscle in his body going limp. Dorian slid his fingers out and gave Alador a few last licks across his sex, making him jerk and gasp with the overstimulation.

He opened his eyes to see Dorian crawling over him and what a sight he was. Face wet from the nose down, hair tangled, curling in front of his face, moustache askew. Alador wasted no time in kissing him deeply, tasting himself all over Dorian’s lips, cheeks, chin. “I think this is your best look yet,” he murmured, breathing deeply to regain control over his still pleasure-flooded body.

“I will endeavor to wear it more often,” Dorian said, pressing his cock insistently against Alador’s hip. He slid his hand over Dorian’s hip and grasped its base, causing Dorian’s eyes to flutter shut. After a few strokes, Dorian looked even more the mess, gasping for breath, eyes closed, still tousled and damp.

“No, I lied, this looks even better,” Alador whispered. He wanted to wrap his lips around Dorian’s pretty cock but he also never wanted to take his eyes off his face, the absolute wreck it was now.

Only a moment later, that decision was made for him, Dorian thrusting hard against his hand and stomach and spilling across him. He bit his lip and moaned, high and long, arm shaking above Alador where he braced his weight. Alador held him, stroking him gently a couple times more before cupping his face in both hands. His lips still tasted like Alador.

Their eyes met and Dorian rolled off to the side, breath still heavy.

“Well. That was.” His face split in an earnest smile.

“That was only our first time,” Alador said, grinning. “We’re naturals.”

Dorian nodded. “We’ll have to practice hard, but we could really get something out of this.”

“Am I really going to have to keep up this _and_ the whole Inquisitor thing _and_ all my friends constantly insisting we beat each other up for fun and profit?” Alador sighed. “But I’ll try to make room in my schedule. You’ll have me a proper athlete in no time.”

Dorian smiled, brushing Alador’s hair back, and kissed his cheek. “Can’t have you getting lazy on my watch, now.” Dorian sat up to grab a cloth (really a thin blanket, Inquisition issue) and dampen it from his canteen. He wiped down Alador’s stomach and thighs, then himself.

They both burrowed under the blankets, suddenly realizing post-coitus that a chill had set in. Their limbs tangled and they fit together surprisingly easily, Dorian curling around Alador’s back, his hand resting on the elf’s stomach. With an easy gesture, the candles that had so valiantly burned through their entire adventure went out.

In the darkness, Dorian nuzzled Alador’s hair and sighed happily.

“Are you going to tell me what amatus means?” Alador said, exhaustion already closing in.

“Only if you tell me what ma vhenan means.”

“Fair’s fair,” Alador said, and drifted to sleep before he could answer.

**Author's Note:**

> please just picture Sera's reaction the next day. thank you and good night.


End file.
